


(We Are Meant to Be) More Than Friends

by funfan



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Bittersweet Ending, Developing Relationship, First Time, Hate to Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:43:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3787069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funfan/pseuds/funfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Right before the European Championship, Marco's and Mario's friendship seems to be beyond repair. The national coach comes up with a possible solution. It includes Marco and Mario on a deserted island...</p>
            </blockquote>





	(We Are Meant to Be) More Than Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I'm really not sure about this work. I hope you will like it, and please leave kudos and comments if you do. :-)

Mario just doesn’t know what went wrong between them. Maybe, it could have been seen earlier, but still, the extent to which their friendship has been destroyed, amazes him. It started so well for them; they had become friends in Dortmund in a few days and they wowed the whole of Europe with their play. And still, the man sitting next to him on the small yacht is like an enemy to him. And he is the one to blame for the hatred between them.

If only he hadn’t fallen in love with Marco so hopelessly! But, he couldn’t keep his feelings under control and he was afraid that he couldn’t keep his manhood in his pants for long, so he did what every nice footballer was supposed to do. He got himself a girlfriend and switched clubs, trying to forget about loving another man again, let alone a teammate! Since then, everything has gone downhill for them and he just does not see the light at the end of the tunnel. Especially after that match in Berlin.

 

 

 

_It is a late tackle, Mario knows that as soon as he dives into that damn tackle. He only closes his eyes and prays that he won’t hear any cracking sound. His foot hits Marco’s shin guard and luckily it slides to the side. The blonde falls on him and it is Mario’s chubby strong body that cushions the fall but he is glad to do that. The referee’s whistle sounds and Mario is sure his involvement in the cup final is over. But, he doesn’t expect Marco’s reaction._

_“Are you a fucking idiot? You nearly broke my leg!” He shouts straight into Mario’s face. He has already sprung up and Mario is sitting on the pitch, waiting for the red card. And then, Marco leans forward and crashes their heads together._

_The crowd sounds their disapproval and the referee whistles again. A second later they both are sent off. And all that right before the European Championship they are supposed to win together! Mario understands the symbolic meaning of the situation and what it means for the German football fans. The golden boys, their fantastic duo – is over._

_Mario doesn’t dare to look at Marco as they make their way down the pitch and through the corridor leading to the teams’ locker rooms. They both need a cold shower, especially Mario, because fuck, Marco is so damn hot when he is angry! He can’t believe his body and that he has become turned on in this tense situation, but, the long months of denial have taken their toll._

_The shower solves the problem of his arousal, but it cannot affect the feelings mixed up in his heart. He is so fucked up! He has tried to run away from his feelings to Marco and he has honestly hoped that a move to Bayern would solve his problems: he wouldn’t see Marco that often and they could stay the good friends they had been. But, Marco considers his departure a betrayal, something he can’t forgive. And he has been sure to point it out the first time they met on international duty. It was the first one of a series of rows, a series that simply isn’t going to stop._

_“Mario, come with me!” A man storms into the locker room. The brunette looks up and sees the angry and fuming figure of Joachim Löw. He knows his national coach better than to argue with him right now. He gets up unwillingly and follows him out of the room._

_And he almost turns back when he sees the other man waiting in the corridor. Marco refuses to look at him and Mario understands that. The Bundestrainer pushes them into a smaller room._

_“What the hell is wrong with you guys?” He shouts. “I have thought that you were grown-ups who could act maturely at all times. I see that I’ve been mistaken. We need you and not just as individuals! So far, you haven’t contributed much to the national team and now comes the most important time for us. And what do you do? One tries to break the other one’s leg and then the other one headbutts the first one? Guys, this can’t go on like this! You have two options to choose from.” He takes a deep breath._

_“Firstly, if you don’t learn to work together, you can’t be on the national team. And I won’t solve the problem of whom to take with us and whom to leave at home. You will both stay in Germany.” Mario and Marco let out a gasp in unison, a slight reminder of what had been between them once._

_“The other options is quite simple. There’s one week until the national side meets up for the European Championship preparations. Until then, you take a mandatory vacation and work on your attitudes – together. Which one do you choose?”_

 

 

 

So they are now sailing towards the small island that has exactly one house on it. One house they will share for the next five days. And do nothing else; they could only bring their clothes; no laptops and no phones. There is only one phone in the house and they can only call for help with it. It is all so perfectly arranged that Mario suspects that Jogi was going to force them to go through this even if the incident in the cup hadn’t happened.

They dock, get their luggage and the ship sails away, leaving them behind: one of Mario’s worst nightmares. Five days in paradise, with his bitterest enemy. Mario sighs and walks towards the house, followed by Marco. They enter a spacy living room with comfortable armchairs, a huge TV, a table tennis table and a fireplace perfect for romantic evenings. Not that they are going to need that one. But the view is phenomenal: the walls of the room are almost completely made of glass and wherever they look, they see sea around them.

“Well, it’s not that bad.” Mario notes.

“Yeah, if only the company was better.” Marco snorts and walks past him, climbing the stairs, heading for the bedroom. “They are fucking kidding us, right?” Mario hears his cry and quickly runs up to him. In the middle of a huge bedroom stands Marco… in front of a king-sized bed.

 

 

 

The bed isn’t their biggest problem, getting along is. For most of the day, Marco simply ignores him and that’s extra annoying because there’s not much they can do on this island. So they end up watching some Spanish TV that neither of them understands and then they cook dinner for themselves.

“Listen, I don’t know about you, but I want to play in the European Championship. So why don’t we try to figure out something to–” Mario tries to start a conversation, but it doesn’t last long.

“Yeah, sure. My dream is to miss the second biggest stage in the world after missing the biggest one!” Marco snarls. “And do you want things to work between us? Great, you should have thought about that before trying to break my leg or leaving me in Dortmund!”

“Oh, you could have followed me if you miss me so much!” Mario snaps back. It’s something he shouldn’t do, but that’s what he is used to in interactions with Marco.

“And become the traitor you are? No, thanks!”

“Really? Tell me exactly, what did I betray? My career? Dortmund? You?” Mario asks, his eyes full of fire, staring at Marco sitting opposite him.

“Thanks for dinner.” Marco stands up. “Where do you want to sleep? In the bed or on the couch?”

 

 

 

The next morning isn’t better at all. They don’t have much options what to do, so they end up on the beach and fuck, Marco’s body only got hotter during the three years Mario spent in Munich. And he’s wearing red swim shorts. Red! A color that suits Marco in Mario’s opinion. A color he will never wear on his jersey, and Mario knows that. Marco is going to become a legend for his club and Mario might become a good footballer at Bayern, but he will never grow up to the like of Beckenbauer. But, he is okay with that, at least he tries to convince himself so.

“Shit!” Marco exclaims and Mario springs up from the towel he’s been lying on. Marco is jumping on one leg towards the coast and Mario can’t help but stare at drops of water running down his perfect body.

“What happened?” He rushes to his ex-friend once he recovers from his musings.

“Something bit me!” Marco says, holding his leg in pain.

“Lie down, I’ll check it.” Mario says assured and Marco doesn’t object. “I can’t see anything.” He inspects Marco’s pale skin and his soft toes.

“It should be there.” Marco points at his big toe, flinching in pain.

“Okay, there’s really no wound there, you probably stepped on a rock.”

“It wasn’t a rock.” Marco hisses.

“Okay, then just to be sure…” Mario says and bends over.

He places his lips on Marco’s soft skin and starts to suck. He feels Marco’s taste in his mouth and he is so aroused. He can’t do it for a long time, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to stop. When he draws back, he looks at Marco. The blonde looks back at him incredulously.

Mario casts down his eyes and realizes stunned the huge bulge under Marco’s shorts. He sees the blonde’s boner, Marco sees that he sees it, and they don’t mention it again.

 

 

 

“Our friendship.” Marco says over their dinner and Mario looks back at him ignorant. “Yesterday you asked me what I though you betrayed. The answer is our friendship.”

“What?” Mario cries out. “If anything, I left for Bayern to save our friendship.” The words slip his mouth before he can stop them.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Marco looks at him questioningly.

“Um, I–” Mario knows it is now or never. He has to tell Marco the truth that has been torturing him for the past years. And yet, words fail him. He can’t tell Marco because he’s afraid of his reaction. What if Marco will hate him for it? More than already? There’s nothing Mario can lose. He takes a deep breath before saying the hardest words. “I had a crush on you in Dortmund. And I still have, to be honest.”

Mario keeps staring at his plate, he doesn’t want to see Marco’s reaction. He has imagined so many ways of a possible reaction, but the real one takes him by surprise, because the blonde bursts out in a hysterical laughter. Mario takes it for some time, but it gets annoying quickly.

“What is so funny? My feelings?”

“Oh, hell no.” Marco chuckles. “It’s just– ever since I saw you for the first time, I’ve been in love with you.”

“W–what?” Mario stammers. “But then, why all that hate towards me and your reaction after I left Dortmund… I just don’t understand.”

“Because I thought you left because of me. I tried to get closer to you and I was afraid you took it badly. I was hating myself for making you leave and I wanted you to come to hate me, too.” Marco explains, wiping his tears that must be the tears of relief and joy. Mario is left speechless. He gapes at his friend whom he views more than a friend right now.

 

 

 

He isn’t surprised that they end up in bed; neither of them minds that it is a double bed anymore. And he won’t even ask why Marco has brought condoms and lube with him. His cock just feels so amazing in Mario that he can’t be troubled with such details. Marco hits all the right spots and before Mario knows, he comes hard onto the sheets untouched. It takes the blonde exactly one more thrust to follow him over the edge and come into the condom, buried balls-deep in the midfielder.

They fall down on the sheets sated and worn out. Marco embraces him from behind and pulls him closer to him, pressing his soft lips on Mario’s back. The brunette closes his eyes and savors the sweet touch to the fullest.

“Marco?” He mumbles on the edge of sleep.

“Hm?” Marco answers in a similar manner.

“If only we had talked earlier, I wouldn’t have left for Bayern.”

Marco snickers behind him. “If only we had talked…”


End file.
